


first days

by yami (blind_man_sun)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who: Eighth Doctor Adventures - Various Authors
Genre: M/M, Time War, Time War Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 20:30:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7522102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blind_man_sun/pseuds/yami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are the first days of the Time War.</p>
            </blockquote>





	first days

**Author's Note:**

> for eightfitzweek on tumblr

These are the first days of the Time War.

You tried your damndest to stay out of it, but your people sucked you back in. The Time Lords have a way of making themselves the center of the universe, and if they don’t fall into it naturally, they’ll force their way in. It’s first nature to them. To you.

This is the story of an unstoppable force meets unmovable object.

You’ve been here before, you think. Another war in another timeline, one that never quite made it into reality, stuck in quick, hushed conversations in shadowy corners. You wonder if that one would’ve been worse than this one.

You’re on this tiny planet, insignificant in the scheme of things. There wasn’t a war when you first landed here to visit, to show Fitz the sights, but then you blinked and there was. How long have you been here, trapped, looping the same day over and over? It doesn’t really matter. There’s a burn across your shoulder and you’re sitting in the bombed-out shell of what once was a music hall. There’s a scrap of sheet music under your foot. Fitz is behind you, his long, skinny fingers trying to patch up your wound. It stings, but you ignore it. You’ve had worse injuries. 

Fitz died yesterday. He’s back today. It took you a while to realize that you weren’t seeing a ghost out of the corner of your eye. He sees the way your face goes pale and asks you what’s wrong, worried about you like always, and you smile and say it’s nothing. You’re just tired.

Fitz dies today. You’re sitting in the bombed out shell of what once was an art museum. There’s a scrap of painted fabric under your foot. Fitz is in your arms and his blood is seeping into your clothes, all the way down to your bones. It settles, a heavy weight, almost as heavy as the guilt wracking your two hearts. Fitz died and you destroyed the Dalek that killed him. Its empty, twisted casing is behind you, one tentacle of the thing you beat mercilessly into the ground poking out behind it.

You file this incident away in your mind.

These events will loop again, and again, and again. You know it. But time bends to your will. You make it. Fitz won’t die tomorrow, because you’re getting him out.

You make this promise to him as you bury his body for the twentieth time.


End file.
